


Strawberries and Cigarettes

by DaughterOfAthena, SugarTwinkPelle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfAthena/pseuds/DaughterOfAthena, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarTwinkPelle/pseuds/SugarTwinkPelle
Summary: Pelle, a college dropout, is struggling to get over the death of his late boyfriend Mallas who died six months ago due to a terrible accident. His friends have encouraged him to take small steps towards self-healing and putting himself out there again.





	1. Chapter 1

{Text: Hadiden } So how long are you going to hide in your apartment?  
{Text: Pelle } "I'm not hiding! I only took a couple of days off of work  
{Text: Hadiden} ...you're totally hiding  
{Text: Pelle} Am not!!  
{Text: Hadiden} Have you been to Hawke's record shop recently?  
{Text: Pelle} No? Why?  
{Text: Hadiden} Have you played your guitar at the cafe for tips lately?  
{Text: Pelle} ...I took a small hiatus? I didn't have the muse to play.   
{Text: Hadiden} Anywhere other than work specifically? And don't you dare say the grocery store!  
{Text: Pelle} Okay what's your point??  
{Text: Hadiden} That you're hiding in your apartment!  
{Text: Pelle} But I'm not! I have been working, grocery shopping, I hang out with Talwinne occasionally. Totally not hiding  
{Text: Hadiden} Where do you hang out with Tal?  
{Text: Pelle} At my apartment  
{Text: Pelle} ... ... ...  
{Text: Hadiden} Checkmate

~  
Pelle rolled over in his full sized bed and tugged the sheets over his head. He dropped his cell phone on the mattress beneath and reached for the nearest pillow. He tugged the plush fabric close to his chest, burying his face into the pillowcase and took in the smell. Sandalwood, a scent he’d become so fond of over the last two years. 

Hadiden was right, deep down he knew that. He just didn’t want to admit it. But could his friend really blame him? Six months or not--waking up in bed alone never got easier no matter how much time passed. The transition had been harsh, he would even call it jarring. One moment he was the happiest elf in the world with the most amazing boyfriend a man could ask for--and then just like that.

It was all gone…

This was no ordinary breakup. His boyfriend did not simply get sick of seeing him, lose interest, leave to study abroad, they didn’t get into some awful relationship ending the battle. None of that happened nothing of that sort. In fact, it wasn’t anything either of them could control. It was the world that took Mallas, far too soon if you were to ask anyone. The poor boy had a great future ahead of him cut short so suddenly.

That dreadful fact still hadn’t fully sunk in yet. 

Once upon a time in a perfect life, Pelle might have woken up with a familiar body holding him, warm comforting breath coating the back of his neck, a loving voice to greet him good morning. 

And now that was all gone. It weighed on Pelle like a ton of bricks placed gently on his chest one by one slowly crushing him. He’d never felt as alone as he had these last six months. Of course, he had friends who loved him, supported, wanted to see him happy. Even still they just didn’t know how he felt, they couldn’t, and that was nobody’s fault. 

Lazily Pelle rolled over in his bed lying diagonally to try and make up for the vacant space beside him. It never did him any good, trying to fill his bed with his small body, still, he did it. 

A dull vibration rumbled under his ribcage. So Hadiden wasn’t done lecturing him after all. With an exasperated sigh, Pelle reached for his phone and pulled it out in front of him. He could only read half the text from his lock screen so he placed his thumb on the home button to unlock it. 

{Text: Hadiden} You’re still i//n bed aren’t you? Did you know it’s been 45 minutes? I’m tellin ya sunshine you’re gonna waste away in that apartment and then your cat’s gonna eat you.

A loud groan escaped from the elf as he threw back his sheets and crawled out of bed. Wow...his room was a mess. An empty pizza box from the cheese pizza he’d devoured by himself, a plethora of records on the floor with a record player, scrapped papers filled with discarded song lyrics, a bottle of wine or two, and clothing he hardly remembered shedding before crawling back to bed. 

It truly was a sad sight.   
His phone buzzed again. 

{Text: Hadiden} How about a proposal? If you get out of bed...I’ll buy you coffee.   
{Text: Pelle} I am up you twit.  
{Text: Hadiden} But for how long?  
{Text: Pelle} Does it matter?  
{Text: Hadiden} You want this coffee or not?  
{Text: Pelle} You don’t even like coffee  
{Text: Hadiden} I don’t. But I DO like hot chocolate  
{Text: Pelle} Fine. Meet you in thirty?  
{Text: Hadiden} Thirty it is! 

Great...now he had to get up. It was inevitable really. He was never going to win a debate with Hadiden, they were on their own level of stubbornness Pelle could only dream of achieving. Reluctant as he was, he wandered into his bathroom removing articles of clothing as he walked. If he was going out, a shower was mandatory.

He stopped at the mirror, Maker what a mess he was. He stared in disgust at his tired face marked with sleep lines on his left cheek where he’d been buried in his covers.   
Had he been human he was sure he might be sprouting a beard by now. But he was not, instead his hair just fell limp much like his mood. He played with the blond curls for a moment, tucking his bangs behind his long ears, but it only made them look larger than they already were. Dissatisfied he shook his hair back to its original state. 

It would look better once he washed it he was sure. Most things did. 

He ignored his scrawny nakedness in the mirror as he turned towards his shower to run the water. He’d never been all that fond of his body, much too skinny. He might even say it was almost feminine in comparison to his friends’ bodies. It had always been this way, he was always the smallest, the weakest, the one kid in gym class who just passed solely because he showed up to humiliate himself a few times a week. He wanted to say that others found him appealing based upon the number of men who’d tried to bang him in his life or made some sort of comment that objectified him. Now he knew that objectifying him wasn’t a compliment, he was wise enough to know the difference between someone being attracted to him and someone sexualizing him just because he was gay. 

His boyfriend liked his body though...he liked Pelle even more. Pelle used to laugh when he’d say things like that. ‘Well that makes one of us!’ he would say. Maker how much he wished he’d just said thank you instead of discrediting his boyfriend like that. But now it was too late, it was better he didn’t dwell on it. 

His shower awaited him, and if there was anything he knew for sure--it was that showers could wash away even the worst of moods.


	2. 2

He was right about the hair. A little soap and a diffuser had brought it back to its usual springy self. He made no effort to comb through it more than a running a few fingers through it a couple of times. It was just Hadiden. Besides, he hardly wanted to get out of bed in the first place. He was doing this for Hadiden, not himself. 

He wrapped a towel around his waist and made the short journey back to his room. Looking at it the second time wasn’t any more pleasant than the first. So much for finding a new angle. The elf sighed taking in the damage of his three day fit of depression. He knew he would have to explain himself once he came back to work. He may have coerced his boss, but his coworker, Sera, did not believe him for a second. 

One item at a time, Pelle began to pick up the scattered pieces of his last three days off the floor and returned them to their proper place. Most of it--well it’s place was the trash. Empty wine bottles and a pizza box had no place on his bedroom floor. The scrapped song lyrics he would save for later, look over them, decide if they were worth keeping or not. 

Next thing on the list was clothes, and maybe some cologne. Usually, he wouldn’t bother with such things, soap was usually good enough for his boring life. However, putting in the extra ten seconds gave him an excuse to make use of Mallas’ cologne. Ever since Mallas died, he’d been spraying his cologne on items around the apartment like the pillows, the couch, and Mallas’ jacket that Pelle now wore whenever given the opportunity. 

Emerald Graves was the name of the cologne that Mallas frequently wore. It had a very woodsy smell to it, Sandalwood was the official fragrance but to Pelle’s overactive imagination it smelled like a quiet clearing in the woods that young people with wanderlust might visit to get away from their everyday lives for a time. 

He sprayed the cologne around his body before setting the bottle back on the dresser. After that, he tugged open his dresser and pulled out the first pair of boxers, t-shirt and ripped jeans his hands touched and put them on. Next was an oversized flannel from his closet, and his beat-up white converse he promised he’d replace years ago. 

The finishing touch was Mallas’ leather army jacket he received from his father. By some strange coincidence, he wasn’t wearing his jacket the night he died. Pelle wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t grateful to have something left over of his boyfriend that held so much meaning to him. It helped him feel like he could keep Mallas close, even in death. 

Slipping on the jacket, he was ready to meet Hadiden. 

His car awaited him outside. It was weird how it felt like he hadn’t driven his car in such a long time even though it'd only been three days. Guess time starts to meld together after you camped out in your apartment for days on end with little to no contact with the outside world. Did he eat breakfast this morning or was that yesterday? Had he eaten breakfast at all or was it technically a brunch? Honestly, he didn’t even remember anymore.

The car waiting in his parking spot was a 1982 blue honda civic he bought from his cousin Faolan when he was sixteen years old. Faolan had given it to him really cheap, handled any repairs on the car, it had been Pelle’s pride and joy ever since. His car had seen many trips to the 7/11 for cheap slushies at 3 a.m., late-night chainsmoking with friends from the theater club in high school, and many more fond memories. It was his place to go when he needed to gather his friends together or to sit alone and blast music out of his speakers to drown out negative emotions in Faolan’s the waffle house parking lot. 

He stepped in the car and went straight for the glove department to search for a good tape to play. While he was well aware he was living in the 21st century, his car was not. He didn’t want to ruin the aesthetic of his trusty vehicle by installing either a CD player or a Bluetooth device (nor could he afford to do so) so he just went ahead and made a collection of tapes with the music he enjoyed. 

What was he in the mood for? Was he going to try and match his gloomy mood this morning or did he want to try and perk up? This was a very important question as it would decide which tape he pulled out of that glove department. Most of his music was on the older side, ranging from the 60s to the 90s. He could enjoy his fair share of new age music but if it was his personal choice he leaned towards the classics every time. 

He sifted through the tapes, finally deciding to play the tape with Prince on it. He’d made up his mind, he didn’t have to be somewhat present until he saw Hadiden. He could be moody and dramatic up until he got out of the car--and he intended to be. 

Though his mood barely lasted once the music was playing. 

He turned the music up and let his windows down before officially putting his car in drive. He wasn’t going to give Hadiden the credit for this but once he was driving with his music playing he gradually crawled out of his doom cloud. Before he knew it he was speeding down the main road singing all the words to his music at the top of lungs like his old self. He wasn’t expecting the high to last through the whole day, but he’d be damned if he didn’t grab it by the balls and ride it out till it was finished.

The coffee shop he’d agreed to meet Hadiden at was called Vishante Coffee complete with an exclamation point. The cafe had been around for as long as he could remember, supposedly founded by some family from Tevinter years ago. He wasn’t sure if he really believed that or if that was just the story people told so no one would bring up the lowkey appropriation of Tevene language used for a clever pun. It didn’t really matter, they let him play his guitar there some evenings for tips. He wasn’t going to bite the hand that feeds--especially considering his current financial situation. 

They also made very good cold brew--so who was he to judge? 

When he turned into the parking lot, Hadiden was seated at one of the outdoor tables under an umbrella. He had a pad of paper and pen with a nug toy taped to the top of it--Maxwell’s probably. What kind of wild shit was Hadiden up to now? It was perfectly acceptable grounds for concern if Hadiden was taking notes. Nothing normal ever came of Hadiden scribbling notes like a student desperate to copy a powerpoint before his professor changed slides. 

He rolled past his scribbling friend stopping his car right in front of Hadiden before giving the horn a quick honk. Hadiden jumped like startled cat, dropping his nug pen in the process.

“What are you doing?” Pelle asked Hadiden, who was currently scrambling in his seat to retrieve his dropped pen. 

“We agreed on thirty!” Hadiden replied, completely failing to answer the question. “That was forty-seven!” 

“I had to shower,” Pelle clapped back. “Besides, my hair looks cute so hush.” 

Hadiden snorted. “Go park your car you queen, I haven’t moved in two hours. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Two hours?!” Pelle exclaimed. “What the fuck are you still doing here? Aren’t you loitering by now?” 

Hadiden’s first response was a snap of his fingers turning to finger guns. “Not if I buy consecutive hot chocolates.”

“Where is Maxwell?” Pelle inquired. 

“He was here earlier.” Hadiden began. “But he went to work, had to open up shop ya know?”

“So you’ve just been sitting here buying hot chocolates?” Pelle questioned for confirmation. 

“This is hot chocolate number five.” Said Hadiden with a little too much confidence. 

Of course it was. Pelle sighed, shaking his head as he repressed a chuckle. “Let me park, I’ll be right back.”


End file.
